


Treasure

by buttered_onions



Series: Voltron: AU Fills [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Pirates, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, not space pirates real pirates, tumblr requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/pseuds/buttered_onions
Summary: There’s something out there in the deep sea, something the Garrison wants to ignore. If they won’t listen, Shiro’s going to find it on his own.Again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> More AU!fills! I'm filling mini-prompts on [tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com) rather gleefully and with reckless abandon. Oops. I post them on tumblr first, so if you want them as they come out, swing by and say hello!
> 
> Unbeta'd; all mistakes are mine. This is from andriseup, who wanted PIRATES. Me too, matey. Me too.

**00.** What is Voltron?

A cave full of treasure, some say. Or an island, lost in the Forbidden Sea. Others say it’s a weapon, powerful and ancient. Still others insist it’s the greatest ship to ever sail the seven seas, vast and powerful in ways no one can possibly fathom. It’s cursed, supposedly. It was lost many, many years ago, in a great battle that people say destroyed the entire island chain of - _Altaurus? Altania? Altea,_ that’s right. Altea was lost at the same time as Voltron, or so the stories say.

 _Voltron_ is a legend.

Whatever it is, _Voltron_ isn’t real.

 

 **01.** Shiro doesn’t remember getting the odd arm.

It’s not heavy, really. It moves perfectly fine. It’s fully functional; all five of the fingers respond, and he has feeling. It’s basically exactly like an _actual_ arm, other than the fact that it’s made out of weird copper and metal and has an unrecognizable circular design in the middle of his palm and he still can’t remember getting any of it. That’s not as alarming as it should be. Shiro doesn’t remember much of his time between the Navy and here.

Keith gives him odd looks sometimes, when he thinks Shiro isn’t watching. Shiro’s not a fool. He knows Keith rescued him from pirates; he knows that the story’s odd enough the Navy won’t take either of them back. The Navy’s determined to believe that deep sea pirates aren’t real, that they aren’t a danger to everyday sailors, shipping routes, citizens. The only ‘pirates’ the Navy cares about are the ones trolling the standard shipping lanes, attacking citizens in the streets, striking close to home. They refuse to expand their - they refuse to even _think_. Nobody wants to think about an unknown and uncontrolled threat roaming the open ocean. Nobody wants to confront the idea that there might be something out there, something unsettled and deeper than the ocean itself. Shiro gets it. It’s uncomfortable. It’s frightening. Hell, it frightens even him, and he lived through it.

He doesn’t remember that part, though.

 

 **02.** If Shiro’s Captain, Keith’s First Mate.

There’s a curfew on the harbor town where Shiro’s ship, The _Lion_ , is docked. Keith saved the ship when Shiro was taken. He’s kept it up, he’s sailed it, it’s the ship he took out into the open seas when everyone said _it’s ridiculous, Keith, he’s probably dead._

Admiral Iverson’s admonition had been the last straw. Keith wasn’t _throwing his future away._ Not for Shiro. Keith had never for one second thought of the risk as a _waste._ It worked, didn’t it? Foolish, foolhardy, whatever. Keith doesn’t care. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

To make a long story short: Keith and the _Lion_ have been through a lot.

Shiro and Keith stand on the dock by the _Lion_ and succumb to background check after cargo check after stupid check. The bureaucracy is tighter.  Keith chafes at the restrictions. Shiro doesn’t complain.

“If we’re going to do this we’re going to need a bigger crew,” Keith says quietly, when the last of the officials finally departs with the cleared paperwork.

“Guess we’re hiring,” Shiro says.

 

 **03.** Lance is loud, unable to not call attention to himself even though they’re clearly sitting in the back booth of this tavern for a reason. He’s not subtle, he’s brash, and he nicknames Keith “Mullet” within thirty seconds of meeting him. Keith fumes next to Shiro while Lance rambles on about _experience_ and _adventure_ and a checklist of _accomplishments;_ Keith’s visibly trying to reign in his temper and Shiro’s just hard put not to laugh.

Lance comes as a package deal with Hunk, who also has good references and a laundry list of skills that Shiro’s pretty impressed by. The two of them are also the only ones who answer the vague ad posting and don’t strike Shiro as immediately, worryingly shady. They’re energetic, almost too honest for a town like this. Why did they, of all people, answer this ad?

“I can sail practically anything,” Lance says, leaning forward across the dirty table between them. “No one knows the stars better than Hunk. Plus we’re totally used to working in close quarters. You won’t find a single squabble from us.”

“No,” Keith cuts in flatly, at his limit. “Not you. This was a mistake, Shiro, let’s go.”

“Also I can cook,” Hunk says, weedling.

Shiro gapes.

“Shiro, _no_ ,” Keith says.

Lance cocks an eyebrow. “Can _you_ cook, Mullet?”

“Don’t call me that,” Keith starts, but it’s too late.

“Are you any good?” Shiro asks despite himself. It’s not that he’s a picky eater, it’s just. There’s only so much one can do with food out on the open sea.

“I’m not bad,” Hunk says, “And like Lance said, I do more than just food. You won’t regret us.”

“I have to warn you this is risky,” Shiro says, the surefire introduction to every single one of his expeditions. Keith groans. “I can’t guarantee when you’ll be paid or how long we’ll be out there.”

Lance and Hunk exchange an unreadable look.

“That’s fine,” Lance says, “but I have two questions.”

“It’s not that we’re not interested,” Hunk adds, dovetailing smoothly. “Clearly we are. If we’re signing on with you, though, where _exactly_ are you guys sailing?”

“Out,” Shiro says, grimly.

“Deep sea,” Keith clarifies reluctantly, visibly accepting that this is happening whether he likes it or not. Who knows? Close quarters can do a lot of things to a relationship. Shiro has hope. “There’s something out there we need to find.”

“Great,” Lance says, full of confident swagger. He’s spunky. Shiro likes him. “Sounds like fun.”

“What’s the other thing?” Keith asks.

Lance’s confidence doesn’t waver, though he does rub the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah, well. There’s kind of a friend of ours who’s trying to get out of town for a little bit. Can he come, too?”

Shiro blinks. “Who?”

 

 **04.** Shiro cannot shake the feeling that there’s something about Pidge he should _know._

Pidge is the last addition to their crew. Interviewing him is beyond odd: Shiro gets the distinct feeling that he _should_ recognize him, something about the thick pieces of glass over Pidge’s eyes or the green scarf tied around his waist, or - or something?

But he doesn’t. Nothing rings any bells except the nagging feeling that something _should_.

Pidge has a parrot named Rover, who sits on his shoulders and squawks obscenities at Lance. Lance hates it. Keith, on the other hand, has never made a new friend faster. Shiro’s sure it’ll come to blows sooner or later, but in the meantime there’s no harm in a little friendly ribbing.

The blows come, but it isn’t from Keith or Lance.

The _Lion_ is attacked everyone’s first night aboard, fresh out of harbor. The enemy ship attacks during the dead of night; only Lance’s loud shout saves them, waking them up in time to fight them all off. It’s just one ship of pirates, with smaller cannons than the _Lion’s._ Furthermore the pirates are disorganized, probably harbor-rats striking at unsuspecting and ‘easy’ exports, except Shiro’s never had this happen to him before and he’s _livid_.

“You said your friend needed to get out of town,” Keith accuses, once the _Lion’s_ made their escape and left the would-be pirates in a floundering ship to await Navy rescue, if one’s even coming. “Well? If we’re going to be attacked barely out of harbor, I think we ought to know what we’re running from!”

“We’re not _running,”_ Lance snaps.

“The truth, if you please,” Shiro interrupts, harsher than he means to, but it’s late and betrayal’s never sat well with him, even before the - even before now. “I didn’t hire you to bring traitors aboard my ship. What are they after?”

“They’re after this,” Pidge blurts, heated, and pulls a rolled up piece of parchment from his bag.

 

 **05.** Pidge is a she, it turns out, and absolutely, entirely, one-hundred-percent sure that the map leads to her brother.

“He was kidnapped by pirates,” she explains. Her eyes burn beneath the glow of the oil lamp, swinging back-and-forth in the dim gloom of the captain’s cabin. “Same with my dad. This map’s going to help me find them. It’s all I have.”

Hunk touches the map with careful fingers, awed breathless. “How much did you pay for this?”

Pidge tilts her chin up stubbornly. “Enough.”

“You shouldn’t have lied to us,” Shiro says.

“I didn’t know I could trust you,” Pidge says, the heat in her words more from defensive embarrassment than any real anger. “I get it now.”

“How do you read this?” Lance asks, swiping the map from the table. He turns it upside-down, left to right, squinting at it from every possible angle. The captain’s hat perches jauntily on his head. “There’s no compass or anything.”

“Give Shiro his hat back,” Keith snaps.

“It’s fine,” Shiro says. “Pidge, how _do_ you read this?”

“That’s the part I’m still working out,” Pidge admits. Lance lays the map back down; it’s hard to decipher, a series of jagged ups and downs over what’s probably a large body of water. Those might be islands, scattered amongst the sea, but there’s no landmarks Shiro recognizes. “There’s a missing component. I don’t know what that is.”

“Wait a minute.” Hunk traces the jagged blue line with his finger, nails tapping against the scattered dots standing out through most of the map’s maybe-ocean. “I don’t think these are decorative ink stains. I think these are stars.”

“Stars?” Pidge asks, with such raw hope Shiro has to stop himself from putting a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

Hunk frowns down at the map. “Might be. I don’t want to get your hopes up, Pidge, I really don’t, but - it’s something I’d definitely consider. Can I borrow this?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Shiro says, stealing his hat back from Lance and plopping it on Keith’s head in revenge. “Lance, Keith, you guys get some sleep. Hunk and Pidge and I will go see if we can do some astronavigation. We’ll wake you if we figure anything out.”

 

 **+1. ‘** Shiro doesn’t remember how he got the arm’ is still true, but how desperately Shiro wishes it wasn’t.

Sendak has Pidge’s map in his hands, turning the parchment upside-down and around in thickly gloved hands. He scrutinizes it with his one eye, the other hidden beneath an eyepatch. His dark coat is made of some kind of thick fur, outrageously matted and snarled. “Do you know what this is?”

Shiro refuses. He might be alone, trapped on his knees on the deck of a pirate ship well away from any dry land or help, but he _refuses_ to play this game. The others will know. They’ll come for him. Right? “What do you want with Pidge’s brother?”

“It’s not a map to a useless sailor,” Sendak says dismissively. The ship creaks beneath them, groaning in the dark of the night. “This is a map to Voltron.”

Shiro gapes, stunned. He can’t have heard correctly. “Voltron’s a myth.”

The dim starlight gleams off Sendak’s teeth. “Only until it’s found.”

Shiro shakes his head, dizzy. “Whatever you think it’s a map to, it won’t work. There’s no landmarks. The stars aren’t right. There’s no compass. We’ve tried everything -”

“We don’t need a compass,” Sendak says, turning the map right-side up again. The night breeze isn’t warm; Shiro shivers. The ship rocks beneath them, back and forth, nowhere near as reassuring as Shiro’s own _Lion_. He doesn’t get seasick, but something about Sendak’s gleeful anticipation is making him ill. “We have you.”

“If you think I’m helping you,” Shiro starts hotly. Sendak hands the map carefully to one of his cronies. Shiro struggles but he’s trapped too tightly; Sendak grabs Shiro’s arm, the copper and metal oddity, and yanks so he can reach. “What are you doing?!”

Sendak ignores him, pressing his thumb directly into the center of Shiro’s palm. The strange circular pattern lights up; horrified, Shiro stares as the symbols start to _move_ , black ink over purple, and it - the ink - spins?

“Haxus,“ Sendak commands, Shiro’s palm still gripped beneath fat fingers, “Turn the ship.”

Slowly the pilot steers the ship in a wide arc, turning them, turning. At first nothing happens. Nothing happens, except the longer they turn, creaking inch by creaking inch, Shiro’s arm begins to glow a constant, sickening violet. The farther starboard Haxus turns the bolder the glow, brighter and brighter. It burns. Shiro gasps.

_What - ?_

“Haxus, stop,” Sendak commands, when the arm’s at its brightest, when it’s just started to dim again. The ship creaks to a halt. The strange circle on Shiro’s palm twists, shadows against the brightness as the sigils writhe, lines spinning until he can’t watch them anymore. Sendak doesn’t let go. “Set a course four points port of where we’re turned now. Sail until this rat tells us otherwise.”

“Aye, Captain,” Haxus calls. Shiro can’t breathe for the horror.

“You’re going to lead us right to it,” the pirate captain says to him, smug and secure in his victory. “You and the druid compass in that arm of yours are going to help us find _Voltron._ Tie him to the mast, boys. Make sure Haxus can see his arm. We have a treasure to find.”  

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this please consider leaving me a comment! You're also welcome on [tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com). Come yell. :)
> 
> (originally posted [here](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/154207777803/oooh-how-about-a-pirate-au)!)


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